


An Acquired Taste

by aoigensou



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Chocolate, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoigensou/pseuds/aoigensou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A forgotten memory from Akira's childhood</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Acquired Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [very](https://archiveofourown.org/users/very/gifts), [hostilecrayon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilecrayon/gifts).



> This was written for Hikago Team Deathmatch, for team Fandom Triforce.

Touya Akira was bored. Father was away at a game so he couldn’t ask to play with him, and mama was busy in the kitchen. He had already looked through all his picture books and the books mama used to teach him how to read -- he was starting to get really good at recognizing the characters, too! -- and he didn’t know what to do until Father returned so he could have a Go lesson.

Go lesson time was his favorite time of day.

With a small pout, Akira left his room and headed toward father’s study. It’s where the goban was kept, and even though he didn’t have anyone to play with him he thought he might be able to figure out something to do if he was in there. He was almost never bored when he was in father’s study. Pausing at the door to the study to lean down and pull up a droopy sock, Akira glanced in reverently. After a few seconds, he finally went in and sat at the goban, across from the spot where father always sat. He sat seiza, keeping his back as straight as he could as he looked at the board, tracing the black lines with one finger.

It didn’t take long before he decided to pull one of the goke toward him, opening the lid and finding the black stones. He always played black when he played with father, so he felt like the black stones were his friends since he always used them. Taking a stone between two fingers, he placed it on the lower left spot -- father said the spots where the go stones lived on the board were called ‘ten’ -- and whispered, “One,” to himself. He took another stone, placing it on the spot next to the first and whispered, “Two.”

This continued, slowly, as Akira counted the stones in the goke. He wanted to see how high he could go this time, by himself without any help. It was frustrating when he had to stop at 29, since he couldn’t remember what came next. Mama always helped remind him when he couldn’t remember. Clutching at the stone in his hand, Akira promised himself that he would learn all the numbers in the world, so he could count all the go stones he wanted. Nobody would be able to beat him at counting go stones one day soon!

Carefully putting the stones away the way father had taught him, Akira stood up and left the room. The sound of voices floated from the front door, and he knew mama was still busy with the guest. Peeking around the corner, he saw her standing there, her apron strings coming loose as she talked with the person at the door. He wanted to go and tug them the rest of the way loose, but the person at the door didn't look like one of their usual visitors, so Akira quickly lost interest, his socked feet carrying him to the kitchen.

Everything was too high for him to reach, and he couldn't wait until he was big enough to get his own strawberry milk instead of waiting for mama to mix it up for him. He had a stool, though, for when he wanted a drink of water. He was allowed to do that by himself, and it made him feel like a big kid to get it without any help. Walking over to the corner where the wooden stool was stored, he picked it up and set it carefully in front of the sink, where he had a cup ready for him. Reaching for it, Akira paused when he saw a bowl and spoon next to the sink, along with lots of things he couldn't remember the name of. He knew the sugar and the flour, but everything else was a mystery. The corner of a silver package hiding behind the bag of flour caught his eye, and, drink of water forgotten, Akira stepped off his stool to shift it two feet to the left and climb back up.

What he found was a square of chocolate, sitting on its pretty foil wrapping, like the kind Ogata-san brought him sometimes. Akira liked it when Ogata-san brought him chocolate, and wished he would do it more often, even though it usually meant that Ogata-san was going to take all of father's time and not let Akira play with them that day. Biting his lip, Akira reached up and clutched at the corner of the silver foil, tugging it closer so he could look at it. It seemed a little darker than the kind Ogata-san gave to him, but a curious sniff at the square told him he wasn't wrong about what it was. Behind the chocolate he had found, Akira saw other foil-wrapped squares waiting to be opened. Pointing to each, he mouthed the numbers to himself the way he had when counting the Go stones in his father's study a few minutes before. One, two three. And the open one made four.

Akira turned around to see if mama was coming back yet, but the sound of laughter made him sigh. He wanted to ask if he could have some chocolate, but he didn't want to interrupt the adults. Poking at the chocolate, he pushed it around the countertop using the wrapper as a kind of sled like he had in the winter when mama and father took him to the mountains to play in the snow. He looked longingly at the chocolate, then behind him again before turning back and picking it up. Mama had four pieces. She wouldn't miss one bite, would she?

Feeling a little bit guilty, Akira nibbled at the corner of the square, expecting the burst of sweetness that always came when he ate the chocolate Ogata-san brought. It never came, though, and as the chocolate melted on his tongue it brought with it a sensation Akira had never felt before. It was strange, and while it still tasted a little like chocolate, the feeling on his tongue made it unpleasant. It was almost like his tongue wanted to curl up, and Akira scrunched his face up as he swallowed, trying to make the taste go away as fast as he could. He wished he had gotten his glass of water after all so he could wash away the taste.

"Aki-chan, what are you doing?" Mama's voice made him freeze, and he turned around to face her, his nose still wrinkled and his mouth puckered with the taste of the worst chocolate he had ever tried. He was still holding the partially-eaten chocolate, and he held it out to her to take it away from him. She did, running a soothing hand over his hair as he watched her set the square back up on the counter. "What's the matter sweetheart?"

"Mama," Akira said with a sniffle of regret, "your chocolate is really yucky."

"It is, hm?" she asks, before crouching down so he could look at her without tilting his head up. "You know better than to take things that aren't yours, Aki-chan."

"Yes, mama," Akira dutifully answered, looking down at the floor.

"Have you learned a lesson today?"

"Yes, mama," he echoed, looking up at her with teary eyes. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again. I promise!"

"I know you won't, sweetheart." She smiled gently at him, then stood to go over to the sink, getting him a glass of water. He watched her work, a tear spilling over onto his cheek that he wiped away with the back of his hand.

When mama came back with the water and handed it to him, Akira took a big drink and rinsed his mouth out the way he was always careful to when he brushed his teeth each evening. It helped a lot, and he smiled up at her when the funny feeling on his tongue stopped bothering him. “Thank you mama,” he said after he finished his water and gave his glass back.

“You’re welcome, Aki-chan.” Sniffling one last time, Akira hopped down off his stool and threw himself against mama in a hug, before running out of the kitchen and back to his room.

 

Fourteen years later, Akira was in his room. He was an accomplished professional go player, following in his father's footsteps toward the top. On that rainy evening, he was reviewing kifu in preparation of a game with another pro the following day. He wasn't worried about the outcome since he had played the pro before, but he believed in overpreparation rather than barreling in headfirst without a clue like some people he knew. Sitting next to his computer was a bar of dark chocolate that he had been nursing for a little while.

Breaking a square off of the bar, Akira slipped it into his mouth and allowed it to melt, the bittersweetness of the dark chocolate drawing a satisfied sigh. It was always a mystery to him how he had acquired a taste for dark chocolate, since all he could remember growing up was having sweet, milky chocolates around thanks to Ogata and what he figured had to be an insatiable sweet tooth he tried to hide by pinning it on his master's child.

It didn't matter, though. He figured it was just one of his quirks, the way his father secretly enjoyed those gummy snacks Akira's mother used to send to school with him. For an occasional indulgence, it could be worse. And he liked being a little unique.


End file.
